The Following Afternoon
The late afternoon sun stretched its golden light along the narrow path leading to Alex's villa. The sky was tinted with a faint honey hue, and the trees by the gate swayed gently in the breeze carrying the scent of lavender from the front garden. The sound of Thien An's bicycle wheels rolled evenly over the stone path, each soft click as the tires crossed the narrow gaps blending with his slightly hurried breaths after a long day at school.
The house appeared ahead — classical, grand, yet not ostentatious. The dark oak doors were carved with intricate patterns, flanked by tall arched windows reflecting the soft violet of the evening sky. Thien An parked his bike, quickly wiped the sweat from his forehead, and pressed the doorbell.
Ding... dong...
This time, it wasn't Mrs. Tuyet Linh who opened the door. It was Alex himself.The door creaked open, revealing a tall man in a white shirt, his sleeves faintly dusted with chalk from the music room.
Alex's gaze fell on the young boy standing before him — soft black hair framing his forehead, beads of sweat glistening, breaths still uneven, yet his eyes burned with unwavering determination. A light that was pure, sincere.
Alex raised an eyebrow, his low voice steady."Right on time. Come in."
He stepped aside. The boy bowed politely and entered. The soles of his sneakers tapped crisply against the wooden floor — clack... clack...
The house was quiet, with only the ticking of a vintage clock echoing along the hallway. Thien An followed Alex down the long corridor, lined with oil paintings and a few black-and-white photos. The air carried the faint scent of pinewood, tea, and resin.
Alex opened the door to his studio. A different atmosphere poured out — the metallic tang of strings, and the faint pulse of music.The room was a blend of classical and modern: soundproof walls painted in warm amber tones, rosewood flooring, a European-style lamp casting a soft glow, a glossy black piano at the center, and beside it, electric guitars, amplifiers, and a recording console.
Thien An stood at the doorway, eyes sweeping across the space. Everything in here seemed to radiate its own aura — the kind that only existed where true art lived.His gaze stopped at a red electric guitar with black edges. His voice was hesitant:"Uncle… you can play electric guitar too?"
Alex, still searching for something on his desk, answered casually,"Ah, just for fun. Nothing worth mentioning."
Hearing that, Thien An didn't ask further. He only nodded slightly and continued observing the room, curiosity shining faintly in his eyes.
Alex sat down before the piano and gestured for him to come closer."Come here."
Thien An stepped forward. As he stood beside the man, Alex's expression shifted — from indifferent to serious."Before we start, we need to determine your vocal range."
Thien An tilted his head, puzzled."Vocal range… what does that mean?"
Alex didn't mock him. He simply smiled faintly."Listen carefully. Your vocal range is the span of notes — from the lowest to the highest — that you can sing comfortably, clearly, and with control."He paused to make sure the boy understood before continuing,"For female voices, there are three main types:– Soprano: the high female voice, from C4 to C6.– Mezzo-soprano: the middle range, from A3 to A5.– Contralto: the low female voice, from F3 to F5."
His tone was slow, warm, like a teacher explaining to a sincere student."In modern music, every range has its stars, but singers with higher ranges often make a stronger impression. Take diva Shizuka Kudo, for example."
Thien An listened intently, his eyes gradually brightening. Something new and fascinating was unfolding in his mind."What about male voices, then?" he asked eagerly.
Alex nodded slightly."Men are the same — just with different names and ranges."He pressed the piano keys, playing from C3 to C5."This is Tenor — the high male voice."Then from A2 to A4:"This is Baritone — the middle male voice."And from E2 to E4:"This is Bass — the low male voice."He looked up at the boy."Got it?"
"Yes, sir." Thien An nodded firmly. Though he'd never studied music, his memory was sharp, and his mind quick — everything stuck immediately.
Alex tapped the piano lid lightly."Alright, let's test it. Start from the lowest note and go up. You learned scales in primary school, right? I don't need to explain that again, do I?"
"No, sir."
The piano sounded."Do... re... mi..."Thien An's voice was clear, bright, flowing like water. As he went higher, his tone remained steady — unusually so.
When Alex reached C5, the boy's tone was still pure and controlled — not strained, not sharp.Alex paused, eyeing him with a faint smirk."Good. You can reach C5 — that's a real tenor."
He didn't say more, but inside he was quietly impressed: A voice like this is a gift from heaven.
Next, he moved downward to test the lower notes. When they reached A1, the boy began to lose breath.Alex nodded approvingly."Alright, that's enough."
Thien An stood still, heart pounding. He waited anxiously for the verdict.Alex smiled slightly."Relax, kid. You have no idea how rare your voice is. It could rival professional artists."
Thien An froze — his lips parted in disbelief. A rush of joy surged through him — a blend of astonishment and elation.
Seeing the boy's changing expression, Alex clapped his hands twice."Alright, that's enough excitement. Let's move on to breath control."
He straightened up and demonstrated."Stand tall. Chest out, neck straight. Now inhale through your nose — feel the air going down, expanding your abdomen. Put your hand on your stomach; when you inhale, it should rise. Then exhale slowly, evenly, using your core to control the airflow. Try it."
Thien An followed, glancing occasionally at his mentor."Inhale... exhale... that's it. Keep that rhythm — good."
Then Alex continued,"Now, we'll warm up the vocal cords — lip trills, tongue rolls, humming with your mouth closed. Then practice vowel sounds: a, i, u, e, o. Run the scale up and down. Keep your neck and jaw relaxed — don't tense up. When you sing, open your mouth as if yawning, so your voice resonates and your diction stays clear."
Time slipped by quickly. Outside, night had fallen. Car lights flickered through the window.Thien An kept practicing, throat slightly sore, yet his eyes still glowed with passion — a small flame burning brighter by the minute.
Alex glanced at the clock."Alright, that's enough for today. It's getting late."
Thien An blinked, startled."It's that late already?"He bowed politely."I'll come again tomorrow."
Alex nodded, showing a rare smile."Yeah. See you then."
The boy picked up his backpack and left the room.
When he got home, he greeted his parents and ran straight to his room.He tossed his bag onto the bed, lay flat on his back, arms spread wide. His breath was still uneven, but his mind was full — the sound of piano keys, Alex's voice, and the lingering melody that refused to fade.
He stared up at the ceiling, violet eyes glowing faintly under the warm yellow light.Then, without realizing, he smiled — a small, clumsy, innocent smile.Perhaps, he had truly found the one thing that made his heart beat faster than anything else.